


Bad Luck Streak In Dangan School

by DangerousSummer



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, Band Fic, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousSummer/pseuds/DangerousSummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The music class' next project is to launch a band, both as a class- and character-building exercise, and as part of a school competition. Of course Ibuki is going to be at the helm, but as a result, who knows what's going to happen?</p><p>An ongoing slice-of-life fanfic heavily involving everyone's favourite fictional rocker. May contain minor spoilers for the first two Danganronpa games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Might Think

**Author's Note:**

> This introductory chapter might seem a little rough in pacing, but I can assure later chapters will be heavily storyboarded and scripted so as to ensure better pacing. This is mostly just to get the ball rolling.

The halls were packed with students. Well, as packed as this particular school could be. A swathe of colours filled the floor between the racks of lockers, demonstrating the immense variety of the student body. Between a pinstripe-wearing blond youth with stature beyond what was immediately apparent, a domineering male student bearing a wavy purple scarf and a young woman so close to the idea of a typical gothic Lolita one could be forgiven if they thought she'd owned the entire Nabakov oeuvre out of sheer irony, among many others, it presented those within the halls of the school a sight unbecoming of the setting, one that could easily be taken for pure fiction.

And yet, it was just another day for Hope's Peak Academy.

Each year, the Hope's Peak administrative body sought out the best (though not always the brightest) in their prospective fields in the literal hopes of cultivating an optimistic atmosphere both for those who attended and for the nation at large. Their mission was to proclaim that there was always hope for the future of humanity, and their insistence on this ideal drove every action they took. Though as with many schools and their core beliefs, not every decision outwardly appeared to support it.

The exact inner workings of Hope's Peak were shrouded in mystery to the outside world, even in the information age, but enough was known for the populace of the surrounding city to question the decision-making behind signing on a member of the Kuzuryuu family as a student, and whispers of other “outlandish characters” made enough of an impact amongst several scholastic communities to sow seeds of doubt in the strength of the Academy's beliefs. How could they turn around the behaviour of a perverted fan fiction creator, let alone hold them up to be a symbol of hope for this generation?

But to those who were enjoying their time in Hope's Peak, it mattered not. The school's reputation might have seen hits on the exterior, but little to none of the rumours seeped into the halls of the Academy, the stark exterior of the front entrance a clear reminder of the dissonance in image. Inside, the front entrance was beginning to see a few students slip into the cafe for the lunch break. One of the first groups to lead the charge was that of four girls. Though it may have had an unusual size by Hope's Peak standards, and an unusual make-up by any other measure, the group had been making consistent appearances during breaks together for the entire semester. To see them be the first to make it to the lunchroom was no surprise. After all, it was just another day for Hope's Peak.

 

After retrieving their servings of soba from the lunch lady, the four made their way to a pristine white table towards the middle of the room, took their seats and began their usual conversation over their noodles.

“Well,” said the red-haired girl, “I can't say that was the most inspiring class we've had.”

“What do you mean?” said the girl in the striking orange kimono.

“I mean it was flat boring. No fire at all. I hate Wednesdays. Always the most static classes. Where's the fire? The passion? The--”

“Umm, okay, you don't need to drag it out. It's just maths.”

 

Hiyoko Saionji had received a reputation for possessing an attitude unbecoming of her stature. She was small for her age, and her lithe frame was seen as carrying a great sense of grace and character, such was her title of Ultimate Traditional Dancer. And she lived up to that title, both in and out of the academy. Hiyoko gave a grandiose but calming feeling of clarity to her movement, imbuing the greatest of meanings into the most simple of gestures. One look at her kimono's floral pattern and neat double ponytails would have you believe she spoke as she acted on the stage; with soothing serenity.

In reality, her ego was that of legend among Hope's Peak; impressive considering the very nature of the student body. Of the myriad students with short tempers, hers may have been the shortest. Certainly, it was the most sardonic. It was considered a miracle when she was able to get a single friend, much less the three sitting at the same table as her at that moment.

 

“'Just maths'? Come on. Maths is plenty important. Just because you can't move beyond your ten times tables,” said the red-haired girl.

Hiyoko could only stick her tongue out in response.

It was no wonder Mahiru took to maths. Hope's Peak still had to offer some general courses to disperse among all of its students, and it was one she took to with no issues. After all, as both the Ultimate Photographer and the next in the Koizumi line of famed artists, it was easy for her to see the value in using maths to measure angles, dimensions, inclines. Anything that could help her get that next perfect shot.

Her calculated attitude to her craft extended somewhat to her personality. There was a vague sense of standards in everything she said, as if weighing up every prospective response before speaking. Though she extended this same attitude towards people talking to her as well. Mahiru was by no means unkind, but did not suffer fools lightly and was quick to criticise her peers in all manners of substance. Hiyoko was about the only person to which she would mean any negative statement in mere jest, and perhaps as a result, Mahiru was close to the only person Hiyoko looked up to.

Reflecting her personality, Mahiru's appearance consisted of an olive-green school jumper with a cream-and-orange tie and simple black shoes. Hope's Peak had a free dress code but certainly didn't discourage students from showing school spirit through their aesthetic, and the deliberate look of Mahiru's garb certainly gave the impression of someone with a lot of pride. As did her hair, a neat curtain of red bearing the slightest of fringes, although her freckles stood to defenestrate this air of tidiness.

 

Sitting across from them, a nurse-looking girl was starting to fidget, her fingers dancing next to her soba. While the two girls across the table chatted away, and the girl seated next to her was going through her noodles as fast as she could, the nurse-looking girl was simply toying with her chopsticks in unease. It took a while before Mahiru spoke up.

“Hey, Mikan, are you not going to eat? The soba's gonna get cold, you know,” Mahiru said with a matter-of-fact expression.

“I-I'm just waiting for it to cool down,” said the girl in the nurse's apron. “I don't think th-the cafeteria served this at the ideal temperature for consumption.”

“Or maybe you're trying way too hard to hide the fact you need to lose weight,” Hiyoko snorted. Mahiru glared at Hiyoko in response, causing her to meekly apologise.

It was very easy for Mikan Tsumiki to do two things. One, it was easy for her to become obsessed with how everything, every little thing, affected the human body. As the Ultimate Nurse, it wasn't just her talent to take care of human ailments; no, she felt it was her duty. The fact she was always wearing a nurse's apron and would even sometimes attend classes with bandages and a stethoscope upon her gave a clear indication as to her dedicated to health.

Two, it was easy for Mikan to become despondent at the slightest hint of pressure. Her profession gave her an obvious streak of kindness, but she was apparently among the most fragile students at Hope's Peak. It was a vicious cycle. Her insecure psyche, causing her to cry at a moment's notice, made her an easy target, and her tendency to break down simply gave bullies more ammo to torture her with. It was a cycle she was only just starting to break, finding a consistent group of friends and developing positive elements of her self to latch on to and stand behind.

 

Still, she merely toyed with her chopsticks, refusing to look up at Mahiru to answer her question in a satisfactory manner.

“Hey, if you don't want to taste it, I can test to see if it's cool enough. Ibuki is the Ultimate Judge of Coolness.”

The girl next to Mikan didn't wait for a response, putting down her empty bowl and snatching Mikan's. She could scarcely bring a strand of noodle to her lips before spitting it onto the table.

“Yeowch!” the girl screamed. “It's too hot, hot damn!”

“Ibuki! Could you be any louder? Jeez. The cafeteria does not need to hear us every day,” Mahiru groaned.

 

Some students were clearly accepted into Hope's Peak because they would have been too strange for most schools. Some students still seemed too weird for this school famous for bringing along people with singular Ultimate talents. And some students were known as Ibuki Mioda. Among the many unique people attending the academy, Ibuki was somehow the most immediately striking. Her hairstyle, for example, was impossible to succinctly describe. Though mostly composed of flowing black hair, it also had the smallest of fringes, within which were stripes of pink and purple. She also bore two cones of hair sitting at the top of her head, surrounded with white stripes and making it impossible to tell if they were physical extensions or if her grooming skills were simply that good.

Below her hairline, her appearance shirked from shedding its outrageousness. Just below Ibuki's lips were two piercings, arranged to look like a “snake's bite”. Though her sailor uniform seemed nondescript, her mismatched arm accessories seemed intentionally designed to shock anyone with OCD. One her left, a cut-up striped glove of pink and black, and a myriad selection of rings and bracelets. On her right, a hair scrunchy as a wristband. Alongside all this, she wore asymmetrical stockings of pink and blue. Her sneakers were in line with each other, not that it was any consolation to anyone else by that point.

Even with all this, perhaps the most shocking aspect of all this was that Ibuki was attending Hope's Peak because she bore the talent of Ultimate Musician. Not even just a single instrument; apparently she was the best at crafting music, period. Though this earned her some passive chagrin amongst many students, Ibuki's personality was impossibly bubbly. Betraying her rugged and abrasive appearance, there wasn't a soul in the school Ibuki would not try to befriend or socialise with. She was bursting with energy, and desperate to share it amongst everyone. Though she was certainly easy to like, she was difficult to love.

 

“Sorry, Maiya-Hi Maiya-Ha! I just thought I'd test Mikan's noodles since she seemed too nervous,” Ibuki beamed.

“It's just soba. It's not a big deal even if it is a little hot,” Hiyoko said.

Mahiru's gaze returned to Ibuki, puzzled.

“Though I must say, I don't know why you waited so long to even try it, Mikan. Haven't you had cafeteria soba before? You've been going to this school for a while now, you must know how hot the soba is. We have it every Wednesday.”

Mikan simply kept looking down, fidgeting her fingers against each other in her lap, her face starting to go red and her eyes becoming puffy.

“Oh, here we go again,” Hiyoko said, rolling her eyes.

“No, I d-don't mean to cause a scene,” Mikan stuttered. “I j-just have a lot on my mind right now.” Mikan's expression was only getting more glum.

 

“Hey! Ibuki has an idea! You have next period free, right?” Hope's Peak might have had typical blocks of classes akin to high school, but its freeform nature was much more in line with university, especially since it was a boarding school at that; students had to stay in dormitories adjacent to the school itself over the semester.

“Yes,” Mikan sniffled, still looking at her lap.

“Wellllllll,” Ibuki pondered, “do you want to come to my next class?”

“I mean...really? W-what is it?”

“Music, of course. I'll even play you a song. You know what they say; a song a day keeps the doctor away!”

“So you don't want her to come with you, then?” Mahiru chortled. Even that lapse in logic was enough to make her chuckle.

“S-sure. It'll be nice, I think,” said Mikan. “Fourth floor, right?”

“Meee-kan, that's right!” Ibuki said with a cheer.

“Alright, I'll m-m-meet you in front of the class once lunch is over,” Mikan said as she dismounted the table bench.

“Mikan, you're not gonna eat your lunch?” Mahiru inquired, a look on concern upon her face.

“I'm going to grab a granola bar from my dorm room, I think, but thanks for asking.”

Mikan quickly took off, Mahiru barely being able to lift her hand to wave goodbye before Mikan had left the cafe. She stumbled into the pinstripe-wearing boy before very quickly apologising and taking off once more.

 

“Thanks, Ibuki,” said Mahiru, her face still bearing a worried frown.

“Huh? What for?”

“Mikan's always pretty despondent, but I dunno, she seemed even worse today. I think it's awesome you're trying to get her out of her room.”

“Huh? I mean, I just want to see her happy, I don't know what's up either.” Ibuki rubbed the back of her neck, parting her hair, in the process.

Hiyoko was clearly about to launch another sarcastic comment from the way she opened her mouth, but relented when observing Mahiru's concerned expression. If Mahiru was that upset about another Mikan crying session near-miss, she wasn't going to be that insensitive about it.

“I mean,” Mahiru said. “Well—I mean, she would have noticed how we noticed she was sad, I'm sure. I mean, more than usual, you know.”

“Don't worry, Ibuki gets it! Gets it like the hidden depths to Death of a Dead Day!”

“You know we don't know what that is,” Hiyoko moaned.

“I know, Ibuki.”

“See, Hiyoko? She does know what that is!”

“No, that's---” Mahiru could do no more but drive her palm into her forehead. “I know you understand what I mean.”

“Ibuki's on the case!” She said with a grin. No one could fault Ibuki for her enthusiasm and drive.

“I don't expect you to just 'get' the answer out of Mikan. But anything you can do to help,” Mahiru said with a smile.

“Of course,” Ibuki said with a smaller smile. “We're all friends, aren't we?”

 

Ibuki suddenly spied the clock on the far end of the room.

“Oh, shabutie! I gotta get my gear before class starts. See ya later!” Ibuki winked and waved before sprinting into the outside hall as far as her heterochromatic stockings could carry her.

“Aren't you gonna clean up your lunch?!” Hiyoko yelled. Thankfully, the lunch hour was far enough along that she wasn't raising a scene. Hiyoko grumbled as the two girls left at the table assembled the half-eaten bowls of soba, before getting up and giving them back to the lunch lady.

“Urk. I don't blame you ladies,” the lunch lady said to the girls. “I think I made it too cold today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far, thank you. I definitely plan to keep this going, but I'm not going to force myself into a timeframe per chapter so as to avoid burnout and all that. I'm going to stick close to each character's canon backstory as I can, but this is obviously a sort of alternate universe. If I make any factual errors, please let me know and I will see about changing it. Of course, some deliberate creative liberties may be taken. This fic is partially in response to what I want to see more of, so for example, I want to see more commentary on the school itself and its dissonance compared to other schools.
> 
> If you have any questions or criticism, please do not hesitate to leave it in whatever feedback sections AO3 offers. I want to endeavour to make this story the best I can.
> 
> Oh, and the title? A play on words on the title of a Warren Zevon album. Get ready, more musical references for Ibuki is one thing I'm pretty resolute in doing. If you caught all of them this chapter, good job.


	2. Introduce Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second week of semester at Hope's Peak, and it looks like the music class' major assignment is about to be revealed...

Wednesdays were going to be good for Ibuki.

 

As she raced down the hall outside the cafeteria, out the front door and into the adjacent dorm building, she was filled with an inexplicable sense of glee, moreso than she even exhibited on most days. And yet, it was difficult to pin down the exact essence. Try as she might, it wasn't something that could be given the proper words. That clarification and pinpoint accuracy which would make explaining it a hell of a lot easier.

But that was the power of music.

Upon entering her dorm room, she raced to underneath her bed and pulled out a large black case. It was her guitar case. Red Fender Strat. A typical model, but Ibuki made it hers whenever she played, and no one could deny it. Still, lifting the case required a lot of heft, almost causing Ibuki to strain. She was well acquainted with the instrument, but moving it around had not become any easier even since her days in a real band.

 

She took a moment to examine her room. Posters of bands and albums lined the walls.

Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, a holdover from her dad and her very first album. While not quite their most well-regarded, Ibuki found it a classic in every sense. Next to it, Houses of the Holy. British Steel. And, rather weirdly, a portrait of Harry Nilsson. All holdovers from her parents. Trends may change, but those acts would always hold a place in her heart. Ibuki was always quick to thank her parents for lending her her surprising background in music.

Just above the study desk were posters of Mayhem, X Japan and other metal acts generally considered turn-offs by the wider public. But that abrasiveness in the eyes of many was an allure to Ibuki. There was a sense of carnal energy that attracted her to that genre more than any other, and despite her appearance, it actually fit in well with her energetic persona. Ibuki was incredibly quick with a joke, a quip, a compliment; her energy was infectious, and she found that same instant gratification in metal music.

Yet another poster was that of the single to After School Poyoyon Hour. Of all the posters, this was perhaps the most important to Ibuki.

Because it was hers.

 

Ibuki's background in music not included the latent talent which gave her the Ultimate title, but also actual chart success. After School Poyoyon Hour was a surprise light music hit for Ibuki's act in high school, Black Cherry. Ibuki was even featured on that very poster, though possessed a cleaner image. The hair was still the same, though.

She could barely stand to look at herself without her snake bite piercings, so she soon picked up her guitar and headed outside.

 

Arriving at the large double door to her classroom, she spied a familiar nurse-looking girl standing outside.

“Hiya, Tsumiki!” She yelped just across from her.

“Ah!” Mikan jumped in shock. “H-hi, Ibuki. D-don't worry, I just got here.”

Mikan looked steadier than at lunch time, but was still juggling her fingers amongst themselves. If she wasn't stuttering or on the verge of tears, it was the one thing people could count on Mikan to do.

“So, are you as excited as I am for music class, Chop Sue-miki?”

Ibuki was grinning ear to ear the entire time. It was so infectious Mikan managed to crack a smile.

“Oh, I doubt it. M-me being as excited for music class as the Ultimate Musician?”

“Hmm...fair point. I will take it under consideration next time I ask someone.”

“But y-yes, I think this will be good for me.” Mikan's meek smile was already starting to fade.

“Helllll yeah. We're gonna go in there and tear the place apart. Then we'll throw a Live Aid concert to make up the money to rebuild it and do it all over again.”

Ibuki started laughing hard. Once again, Mikan joined in a little.

“I...I don't know how to play anything, sorry. I couldn't join that concert.”

“That's okay. Neither could Rick Springfield!”

Mikan chuckled. “Ibuki...you do realise not everyone knows who you're always talking about, right?”

Ibuki giggled. “I know, I just like throwing a good curveball.”

“Still,” Mikan rested an index on her chin. “I think it is quite wonderful you're that dedicated to music that you can throw around references without a second thought.”

“Pssshhaaawww, that's just because I have no inquisition.”

“That's i-inhibition, Ibuki.”

The two chuckled. “Of course. I knew that!”

 

The two girls chatted away for a few minutes before more students were lined up outside for class. It was the second music class of that entire year; the electives had been switched around between semesters, meaning those who wished to perform in the semester prior either had to practice alone or attempt to rent the music room. For Ibuki, this had been a maddening process, and one she had stopped bothering with.

She was quite excited to observe it for the second time in half a year. The previous session saw the room quite bare, but she had been informed it would be fully stocked by this time.

Finally, the doors opened, and the students were motioned to move inside. Ibuki stared in wonderment as she entered. The walls were lined with racks of instruments, from the classical to the modernist. Towards the back of the class was a stage with a grand piano, a fully kitted drum set, several microphone stands and a production set-up at the side.

If this was leading to what Ibuki was hoping it would lead to, she was beyond excited. At that moment, she was already gasping in wide-eyed wonder at the equipment the music room had managed to procure in a short amount of time.

“Ahem.”

Ibuki was startled by someone clearing their throat. Of course, it was the teacher. As she spun around to face Mrs. Kirijo, she was reminded of something. She reached for her friend and dragged her in front of her teacher.

“Ah, yes, sorry Mrs Kirijo. I was wondering if I could bring along our fine guest Mikan for this week's session. She's been a bit down and I've been a bit up and I think that--”

“Of course, Ibuki.” Kirijo adjusted her spectacles and looked at Mikan, uncomfortable in Ibuki's grasp.

“I only ask you enjoy your time here,” Kirijo said with a smile. “The art of music is universal, after all.”

Mikan struggled to smile back. “Th-thanks. I will. I l-like music.”

“Ooh, is that why you always wear bandages? Playing too much drums?” Ibuki smirked before bursting out, “'I've got blisters on me fingers!' Is that it?”

“Alright, Ibuki,” the teacher said, wagging her finger. “Reign it in.”

Ibuki simply giggled and started towards one of the folding chairs arranged in a circle. After finding a spot, sitting down and planting her guitar under the seat, she kicked her legs up on the seat to the right, intent on saving a spot for Mikan. As Mikan approached, she retracted her legs and patted the seat, beckoning Mikan to fill the spot.

“Thanks.” Mikan smiled and sat down.

 

The rest of the student body had already sat down and was passing the time with idle chatter. Among them were famed baseballer Leon Kuwata, who made very little secret in the prior week's class that his desire for musical stardom was driven by a lust for fame. Though few could deny he already had the look down, his school shirt half open, a padlock necklace resting on it, his hair a bright red.

Ibuki also spied one Gundam Tanaka. Though not quite as boisterous as Ibuki, he was no less loud whenever he spoke. He consistently claimed to be a master of the dark arts, and his outfit adorned with occult imagery reflected that, but his true call to fame was that of animal breeding and caretaking. No one knew what exactly drew him to music, of all subjects, but Ibuki was certainly interested in finding out, seeing an odd admiration in his character.

Suddenly, the teacher sat down in a chair towards the stage, clapped her hands and waited for the noise to die down.

“Hello, everyone,” she said with a warm smile. “First off, I want to apologise for last week's inactivity. Hope's Peak is always striving to make its students the brightest stars for the future, but some of us clearly have different ideas about how to do it.”

Kirijo coughed and muttered a syllable. Ibuki thought it may have been 'Jin', but there was no way of knowing.

“In any case, I want today to truly get us up to speed on what we're going to be doing this semester. Though some of you may already have an idea,” the teacher said, glancing at Ibuki. Apparently, her wonderment had not gone unnoticed. Ibuki smiled and looked away. It was a rare moment of being caught unprepared.

“But before that, I feel we should all properly introduce ourselves.”

“Excuse me, Miss Kirijo,” said a student in a piano tie. “Didn't we do that last week?”

Kirijo cleared her throat.

“That was just our names and a basic introduction. But if we're in this class of all classes, there is only one real way to introduce ourselves.”

“Ibuki,” Kirijo said, looking at her. “Would you mind starting us off?”

 

The rocker beamed, grabbed her guitar and bolted for the stage. She clambered onto the wooden stage, unpacked her guitar and looked around for an amplifier.

“Behind the production booth,” Kirijo yelled. Ibuki nodded and pulled out an amplifier from beyond the sound monitors, dragging it to the front of the stage. Ibuki took a moment to examine the knobs and dials of the amplifier before nodding, plugging in her guitar and turning it on. Picking up the guitar, she turned to face the microphone stand at the front.

“Hi, everyone! May name is Ibuki Mioda and I like to rock! I want to rock! And roll all night and party every day!”

The microphone booming out of the speakers overlooking the stage was surprisingly well-levelled despite Ibuki's intense declaration. Ibuki figured Kirijo must have set it up knowing that she would be first to do this exercise.

Before anyone in the room could speak up, Ibuki let loose on her guitar, dealing out a blistering improvised solo. She invoked many a trick, including sweep picking, quick harmonics, tremolos, alt-tapping. While a couple of students rolled their eyes, the rest were sitting at their seats in wonderment. Ibuki was giving her all in this one brief moment. She didn't lack for intensity, but there was also an undeniable clarity to the melody.

Ibuki ended the solo by driving her pick up the strings, delivering a high-pitched squeal, before one more power chord put the solo to rest. Once the sound died down, the students clapped. A whistle was heard, but from who was uncertain.

Ibuki took a bow. “Thank you, thank you!” It may not have been the first time she had done this to a crowd of on-lookers, but it was no less exciting. Despite how frenetic the performance may have appeared, Ibuki was not panting or sweating, her hands bereft of calluses. “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” said Leon. “Where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

“Oh, I just tried to play the solo to every song on Surfing With The Alien again and again,” said Ibuki with a grin. Her point about simple sheer practice must have been lost, because Leon was still slack-jawed in awe.

After a few seconds, no more questions had been asked, so Ibuki thanked the “crowd”, unplugged her guitar and packed it away before sitting back down. Mikan smiled at Ibuki and gave her the thumbs up.

 

“I think that may have been skipping a few steps, but what you just saw is pretty much what we'll be doing today, class,” Kirijo said. “Obviously, you don't have to be as...fast as Ibuki, but if you can, I want you to play something that reflects who you are, where you come from and your influences. Use whatever you want.”

Suddenly, Gundam stood up and went backstage. After a few moments, he pulled out a marimba, dragging it to the front of the stage.

“Sorry, you'll have to remind me of your name again,” Kirijo said.

“Fool!” Gundam bellowed into the microphone. “It speaks ill of your spiritual power level that you would so easily forget. But I shall humour you once more. Ha ha ha ha!” Gundam laughed mightily, the echo from the speakers soon auto-levelling to a reasonable level.

“My name is Gundam Tanaka! Remember the name, for it is the one that will one day rule this world!”

Ibuki chuckled from her seat. She had heard this spiel a few times before, even though she didn't know Gundam incredibly well.

“I must warn you all I am not one of incredible aural aptitude like Ibuki, but I shall play you a song near and dear to my heart as best I can regardless. Watch and fear, mortals!”

Gundam then picked up the two mallets and began banging out a jaunty tune. Ibuki was impressed with the relative harmony Gundam was creating, especially considering he could essentially only play two notes at a time. The bouncy melody was strikingly familiar to her, but she could not instantly ascertain it. After about a minute, Gundam stopped and placed the mallets back down on the marimba.

“Now,” Gundam grinned, eyes closed. “I suppose I should field some questions, if any of you can muster the energy after that soul-stealing performance.”

“Ooh, ooh! Ibuki has a question.” From the looks of things, Ibuki's arm threatened to leave its socket with how high she was raising.

“Proceed.”

“Where did you get the idea to play that, Tanooki?”

“Ah, my affinity for animals is truly catching up with me, I see.” Gundam blinked. “In any case, I heard that particular tune while on an expedition to the lair of the cold beast resting near the shores of the United Kingdom.”

Ibuki snapped her fingers.

“Ah, that's what it was! Rudie Can't Fail!”

“I beg your pardon?” Gundam raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“That song you played. Rudie Can't Fail, by The Clash. I loved the way you transitioned from the iconic horn line to the vocal line and still made it sound so rhythmic and rich and---”

“I-I see.” Gundam stood back in wonderment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad he could finally attribute a name to that melody.

“In that case, I have a question for you. Does this...'Clash' have any more arrangements similar to this?”

“Hmm,” Ibuki pondered. “Well, the song is from the album London Calling, but one of the things that gives the album its awesomeness is that no two songs are really the same. Although I suppose Revolution Rock has a similarly bouncily melody--”

Gundam coughed. “Yes, I see. Though I do not generally wish to ask mere normals for favours, if you could procure this selection of songs for me, I would be grateful.”

“Of course!” Ibuki grinned. “Remind me after class and I can give you my copy! Although, I dunno. That might be one of those albums that I was told was meaty, so the CD might have bite marks. I don't remember. But I'd love to check.”

Kirijo interjected. “Thanks, Ibuki, but we should move through the class so as to not hold anyone up.”

Ibuki chuckled, embarrassed at being caught in a moment of true earnestness. “Of course, Mrs. Kirijo. I'd love to hear everyone else perform, too.”

 

Gundam moved the marimba back before sitting back down with the group, a triumphant smile on his face. The class continued as more students performed off-the-cuff covers and improvisations. Mikan was offered, but refused, citing a lack of experience and refuting Ibuki's claims she had played drums earlier.

Ibuki was measurably impressed by Fuyuhiko's solo vocal performance, although he refused to take any questions afterwards. Most students performed with little conviction, clearly a little bewildered and even embarrassed at having to quickly perform with no preamble, but Ibuki enjoyed every performance equally.

Though she was the Ultimate Musician, and took great pride and joy in her precise yet powerful approach to the artform, she still enjoyed the emotional aspect of music above anything else. For her, personal expression was the greatest goal to strive for in a performance, even if it isn't the most nuanced rendition of that expression. Getting to see many different identities in as much musical force as each student could muster meant she was grinning throughout the entire class.

Finally, there was one student left to perform: the boy wearing the piano tie. Though the rest of his outfut was a rather simple black jacket and pants ensemble, the tie gave away his talent. Silently, he rose from his chair to move to the stage. Sitting behind the grand piano, he wordlessly began playing a dainty classical arrangement.

Ibuki was sure it was one of the great classical movements. Bach, or Mozart, or Chopin, but of all the music she knew back-to-front, she always found it hard to attribute names to classical music. But she could not deny its emotional power, especially coming from the performance in front of her right now. There was an extremely delicate precision to this boy's playing, right down to volume control and sustain duration. His focus was easily the best the group had seen thus far.

 

When he finished with one more mid-strength chord, the whole group clapped. Finally, the boy spoke.

“Thank you. My name is Kazuma Yasutaka, and I am the Ultimate Pianist. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.”

Mikan raised her hand.

“Th-that actually took a lot of focus. I'm g-genuinely impressed you manage to maintain it for that long.”

Mikan suddenly looked down. “S-sorry, that wasn't a question.” She meekly smiled to herself.

“It's no trouble,” Kazuma said. “I just think of the music I wish to play, and block out everything else. I've managed to train my senses not to pick anything else up while playing.”

“Do you play any other instruments?” Leon asked. “Because Ibuki is the Ultimate Musician, but she seems to only play guitar.”

“Hey! Ibuki also plays banjo and shamisen, TTVM.”

“I'm sorry,” Kazuma said. “I haven't really picked up anything else.”

“What about singing?” asked Ibuki.

“I've never been confident in my voice, sorry.”

“Come on! Sing us a song. You're the piano man!”

“Ibuki,” Kirijo coughed once more. “Is this your idea of hazing?”

Ibuki scratched her head. “Umm...no, I only do Purple Haze. Kazuma's wearing black, as you can see.”

Kirijo simply looked away and said, “never mind.”

 

Kazuma moved away from the piano and sat back down at his chair, across from Ibuki, who observed his meek frame. He couldn't have been much smaller than Fuyuhiko, but that he was even that size was astonishing. His hair was jet black, combed forward. It was so shiny it practically acted as a mirror.

“Alright, all of you. I hope I haven't alarmed you with that rather strenuous activity. The purpose of that was to only demonstrate your talents and forms of expression with each other, but also to prepare you for a stage atmosphere. That's why I went to the trouble of getting you all to do it there.”

“Your project for this semester is, as you may have guessed, to form musical groups with each other. In other words, to play in a band.”

Some students oohed at the idea. Ibuki was beaming.

“This isn't just going to be an in-class competition, though, so don't worry about trying to outperform each other. As each genre of music, and each artist, has different standards, so too will all of you be judged along your own guidelines depending on your style and size. I want you to not get stressed out about this. I know how harsh group projects like this can be.”

Indeed, some students looked visibly tense. Fuyuhiko could barely stand to look at the teacher, his face close to a boiling red in anger at the thought of having to cooperate with people he didn't care to know.

“The reason I'm not going to judge you on any one objective guideline is simple. It's because you can't judge music that way, and I want you all to create music. Fun is going to be the most important element going forward. If you're not enjoying yourself in the creation of your art, it will always show in the art yourself.”

Kazuma simply watched and nodded along. Gundam's poker face was strong, his stoic face betraying a tension at the situation.

“I'll give out the formal assignment papers next week. Until then, I want you all to start thinking about who you may like to partner up with based on what you saw today. If you can't make a choice that soon, do not worry. And don't worry about being forced into groups. Each member has to consent to being in the band. If need be, I'm sure I can coax a few replacements into joining.”

“Now, I think that's long enough. If you have any questions, come see me. If you have any bandmates in mind, you should see about talking to them now. Otherwise, you're free for the rest of the day.”

 

The students all got out of their chairs, with some immediately heading for the double door exiting the room. Mikan turned to Ibuki and smiled.

“Ibuki, I just want to say, umm...th-thanks for bringing me along.”

“It's no problem, Mika. Get it, like the sexuality ambiguous pop singer?”

Mikan chuckled. “No, I don't get it. But...thanks. I'm going to start heading back now.”

“You want to come along next time, too?”

“I'll have to see,” Mikan said with a hand on the back of her neck. “I'm not sure what'll be happening by then. I might be busy.”

“Of course!” Ibuki said with her patented grin. “You just let Ibuki know if you want to go. To that hooooome out onnnn the range. They got a lot of nice gir---”

Ibuki coughed, stopping herself from proceeding. Mikan simply waved and walked out the double door, Ibuki reciprocating the wave on the way out. Mikan was notably better today, she thought, though there was still no clue as to her unusual sorrow the day before. Her train of thought was interrupted with a tap on the shoulder. She turned around to face the source.

“Hey, Ibuki,” Kazuma said. “I wanted to congratulate you on your performance up there. To see an improv performance that tight is seriously impressive.”

“Thanks, dude! Ibuki loved your performance, too! That part that went, 'do-DO-da-da-da', that was sublime.”

“Was it? The only Sublime song I know is their cover of Scarlet Begonias. I have no idea how any of their own songs go.”

Ibuki's eyes widened ever so slightly. She wondered if she had finally met someone who could understand all of her random references.

“Anyway,” Kazuma said, expression as stoic as it had been the entire class. “I was wondering if you wished to talk sometime tomorrow. I would actually like to know more about your playing style.”

“Of course I can make the time. But why not right now? Ibuki's got the time. And got the life!”

“I should probably practice my book studies essay. And besides, you have to give Gundam that copy of London Calling.”

“Oh! Ibuki almost forgot! Thanks, Kazooie!” Ibuki's grin seemed as steadfast as Kazuma's downplayed expression.

“Well, then. Shall I meet you here tomorrow? Lunch time, I suppose.”

Ibuki nodded. “You can count on it.”

“Thank you. I shall see you then” Kazuma then wandered out of the room. Ibuki wondered how it was that the Ultimate Pianist had eluded her until then. The tie was a giveaway, after all. She soon looked for Gundam, spying him standing close to the door. His four hamsters were sitting on his shoulders as he slouched against the wall.

 

“Ah, the rock goddess,” Gundam remarked. “I hope you realise your powers have no comparison to those of the real goddesses not of this plane.”

“Of course not! The only power I know how to use is power metal.”

Gundam chuckled. “At this point, I wonder whether your referential attitude is sardonic or sincere. Either way, there is something to be admired in your dedication to it.”

“Well,” Ibuki said. “That's all it really takes. It's just a lot of practice.” Ibuki was obviously referring to the art of music in general, and it looked as if Gundam managed to pick up on it with a nod.

“In any case, I hear a calling. Or rather,” he chuckled, “I desire to. If you so please.”

 

“Of course! Come with me and I'll grab it from my dorm room for you.”

The two left the music room and walked through the halls of Hope's Peak. As the day was wrapping up, the flow of students was essentially going in the same direction, with the exception of stragglers staying behind to socialise. Eventually, the two found their way outside and ducked over to the dormitory building. Ibuki told Gundam to wait outside her door as she went inside and peered through her CD drawer.

There it was. That familiar green and pink text adorning a simple picture of someone smashing their bass on the ground. She grabbed the jewel case and headed outside to give it to her classmate.

“Here you go,” she said, passing the CD to Gundam. “Rudie is track five, by the way. But I recommend the entire album. It's a little dated, but it's a clear reflection of the times, both melodically and ly--”

“I appreciate your assistance. I shall report back with my findings at my nearest convenience.”

“Actually,” Ibuki pondered. “Do you think you will be around tomorrow at lunch? We should meet up at the music room if you're free.”

“I foresee no difficulty with that arrangement.”

“Niiiice!” Ibuki yelped. “I mean, thanks, Gundam! I'll see you then,” she said with glee.

Gundam merely wandered off without a word or gesture. But Ibuki was still grinning.

Though she had no regrets about leaving Black Cherry, going solo was becoming a bit boring. And, honestly, lonely. But she was going to do it.

 

She was going to form a band all over again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pondering the idea of introducing an original character, and I decided to do it, simply on the basis that there would have to be more Ultimate/SHSL students than simply the ones we know, which may give me leeway to explore the concept, though Pianist may seem like an easy out. Again, I want to inject a bit of commentary on Danganronpa's backstory, even if it's just exploration of the concepts introduced, alongside all the good band stuffs and Ibuki-isms.
> 
> Speaking of which, Ibuki is fairly difficult to write. She is by no means unintelligent, but I got the feeling from DR2 that she has little intuition, explaining why she often replies to things with irrelevant asides. I wanted to try and bring that back down to a reasonable level after a year or so at Hope's Peak, which is why she arguably has more definition as a musician here. Hence, once again, why there are so many musical references.
> 
> This chapter was heavily outlined first, but saw some deviation as I was writing. But I liked the flow of how I was pushing it out. Ultimately, what I want to put down on AO3 is the sort of content I would like to see were I just reading, and a probably lack of prose aside, I think I'm doing it. I love reading my stories back. But tell me what you think if you so desire.
> 
> I doubt I will publish another chapter until after Christmas, but I am continuously planning even now, so rest assured I have a good framework going.


	3. The Right Profile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fiery punk/metal rocker, a warlock-cum-breeder and the Ultimate Pianist walk into a bar...

“You really wear that piano tie every day?”

“Same as you have your hair like that every day.”

 

Thursday. Lunchtime. Ibuki had exited her morning stretch of general science class and met up with Kazuma at Hope's Peak's music room. While students needed reservations, and then some, to use the stage outside of class time, it was well within their rights to simply socialise or practice a few instruments solo. Though the fact the stage saw much use made this less than ideal due to noise. It was generally quiet enough for general socialisation, but who would use a music room for anything other than music?

As she tends to do, Ibuki found a way. Whoever was performing at the time lent a nice ambience to proceedings, the guitar and piano dual act doing instrumental melodic covers of what was apparently popular at the time. Ibuki only recognised about half the roster, but they were all tasteful reconstructions of separate melodies, even if it was easy to tell these were not original songs in most cases.

Ibuki and Kazuma had pulled up three chairs and a table up to about halfway between the exit and the stage. Gundam had not yet arrived, but they were both pretty early.

 

“Actually, I must confess, I wonder what you do with your hair in the morning. Do you just keep it like that all the time? In the shower, in bed?”

“Of course!” Ibuki said with the same cheeky grin.

“How??” Kazuma said, faux desperation in force. “Those...cones, whatever, they can't stay on the entire time.”

“Every woman has their secrets. And I'm good at keeping my secrets.”

Beat.

“...Of silent earth three.”

 

Ibuki winked and stuck her tongue out. In the short time she had known Kazuma, she had already figured out how to elude him in a way that didn't across as insulting or unfair. He knew his weight of references, after all. But that was just it. He found it embarrassing in a way that Ibuki did not. Striking mentions of a piece of music somewhere between obscure and popular was a fun game she was finally getting to play to her fullest.

“Dammit,” Kazuma said, clenching his fist.

“Maybe if you tell me why you're always wearing that kinda tacky tie, I'll tell you!”

“I mean...” Kazuma hesitated.

“Isn't it obviously because I'm the Ultimate Pianist?”

“So you don't deny it's tacky?”

“I think it's fine. Not the best one around, but it works for me and what I do. I mean, I just sit down and look at the piano every time I'm on stage. I don't need to look pretty.”

“Yeah,” said Ibuki. “I guess you don't.”

“Oh.”

 

Kazuma grew a flat look on his face. It was a stretch to say it was that beautiful. The bridge between his nose and his lips was slightly smaller than usual, but his chin was higher up seemingly to compensate. Aside from that, he had a pretty static face. His most noteworthy attribute of appearance, aside from the tie, was his hair. A short cut rather neatly combed forward, but so clean it was practically a reflective material.

The band's song finished and they announced they were heading off for the day. Ibuki then quickly headed up to talk to the guitarist. Kazuma couldn't really make out what was happening before Ibuki sat back down as quickly as she left.

“What was that about?” Kazuma asked.

“I was just telling them thanks for the performance!”

“I see. That's actually really nice. I don't know how many people even pay attention. Although, to be frank, I wasn't past their first song.”

“Yeah, that was probably their best one and it was all downhill from there. But they certainly have their own angle. I asked if they had any CDs out or anything, and they said no.” Ibuki suddenly grew a despondent look.

“I'm sure with enough patience and willpower, they can get it.” Kazuma smiled. It was hard for him not to feel the energy Ibuki seemed to simply exude. Kazuma coughed.

“Speaking of patience, aren't we still waiting on someone?” Kazuma remarked.

 

“Not any more,” came a voice from behind him.

 

Kazuma jumped, startled. He turned around and saw a student wearing a purple scarf.

“Oh, hello. When did you get here?”

Gundam moved to sit in the empty seat at the table.

“I had trouble navigating this establishment. It pains me to say that even though I've been here some times before, I could not immediately recall the path to travel to arrive here,” Gundam said, arms crossed.

“Ah, right,” Kazuma said. “Renovations will do that, Mister...?” Kazuma rubbed the back of his neck in apology.

“What? Don't tell me you forgot my name after such a short span of time!” Gundamn howled.

“I do remember that you told us to remember it because it'll rule the world one day,” Kazuma smirked. His sardonic side did not arise often, but when it did, it bit like a spider.

 

Gundam paused before saying, “It's Gundam Tanaka.” He then smirked, eyes closed, as the warlock was wont to do.

“Right. Gundam. My apologies.”

“Hiyaaa, Gundam!” interjected Ibuki. “Didja play the album?”

Gundam nodded.

“Although it was not quite as I had remembered it from my days abroad, it was most liberating to hear this “Rudie Can't Fail” once more, and for that alone I must thank you. The rest of the album was a pleasurable listen, though I must concede that Death Or Glory left me gravely disappointed.” Gundam looked down.

“Hmm?” Ibuki hummed, a quizzical expression on her face. “Why's that?”

“If I had to hazard a guess,” Kazuma interrupted. “And I don't mean to presume your character, but I believe Gundam would be upset the song is really about how some stories are enhanced just to make someone sound more decorated than they really are.”

“I--"

Gundam hesitated.

“That is correct. It was not the feeling I was looking for.”

 

“It's all right. I never felt that song was all it could be either. Though it was the point, I only feel that Death Or Glory was...well, just another story.”

“Well, Gundam?” Ibuki said. “Was there anything else that got your fire going?”

“I must confess that I had to tend to the care of the Four Dark Devas afterwards. Maga-Z's spiritual energy in particular was wildly erratic. I barely found the time to rest last night.”

Gundam had grey bags underneath his eyes, which greatly distracted from their heterochromatic properties. His face was also somewhat whiter than usual, but it could just have easily been some form of make-up from where the other two were sitting. Interestingly, it appears he did not currently have his hamsters with him.

“That's a shame, Gundam. Ibuki wanted to learn about your musical stylings.”

Gundam raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Kazuma tapped the side of his head. “She just somehow managed to get the three of us here at the same time, the three of us being classmates in a course which announced a group assignment just yesterday. And we've been told to scout ahead for group mates if we can at all manage it.”

 

“Damn, son. You figured Ibuki out!” A shocked expression was plastered all over her face, accenting her piercings.

“Well, as a wise man named Chad said, it wasn't that hard.”

Ibuki briefly wondered how much cleaning she'd have to do to get Kazuma's blood off the table if she went for the punch.

“Ahem,” Gundam coughed. “In that case, might I inquire why you sought me out specifically? I am sure many people are vying for your talents in particular. This is your, ah...forte, after all.”

“The way you approached the marimba yesterday...those eyes of yours were on fire. You may not know it, but you have an incredible passion. Unlike Mean Mister Mustard over here,” she said, side-eyeing Kazuma. He coughed and spluttered.

“Uhh...anyway, Gundam, you think you're up for it?”

 

Gundam buried himself in his scarf the tiniest bit, trying his best not to let his sincere blush show. “I-I don't know what it is you see yet, but thank you. Perhaps your powers as a seer are eclipsing mine, for I cannot see myself a master of this art yet. In any case, I have no other compatriots in mind, so I shall accept.”

It was difficult for Gundam to receive honest and dignified positive reinforcement. A year in Hope's Peak had started to seriously defenestrate the truthfulness of his dark magic background, and it was wearing on the breeder's psyche. To think he had a calling beyond the one he was destined for and the one he claimed he was destined for was not a thought that ever crossed his mind, and though the words from one Ultimate to another wouldn't instantly change his mind, somewhere inside of it, he deeply appreciated the gesture.

“Great! Ibuki is so happy she could kiss you!”

“But she won't. I find it strange how many girls I've had to tell I have venomous blood,” he said with a sigh.

“It's fine! I'm taken anyway,” she said with her tongue sticking out. It was difficult to tell if this was a fabrication.

 

“I suppose you're going to ask me the same thing, then, Ibuki?” asked Kazuma.

“The piano man can't sing us a song, but sure, he can band together with us!”

Kazuma's breath was caught in his throat for a split-second before he regained his composure, for reasons beyond being unsure about what Ibuki's spiel was even about.

“I have no qualms, but I think we should wait until we see what the other line-ups are first. I imagine some people will call it unfair if the two Ultimate music players of the class are in the same group.” Kazuma's face portrayed a hint of disappointment as he delivered the idea.

“Leon, for example. I think he's real interested in pairing up with you.”

“If I may posit something,” Gundam interjected, “a fourth member may not be a terrible idea. I may not know that much about music, but especially given my limited repertoire, it may be worth fleshing out our options.”

 

Ibuki was deep in thought. It was clear her heart was set on these two, for she saw talent and passion in these two above the others, at least from the simple introductions of the day before. It would be unfair, and selfish, to simply deny anyone else a chance of pairing up with either of the Ultimates of the art form in the class. And she wasn't about to deny the value of anyone else's musical abilities if it meant comprising her entire outlook on music. She believed in its emotional output more than anything else, something that even the Ultimate Musician admitted was not a simple matter of just “doing”. All talents need honing, even Ultimate talents.

“Ibuki prefers a threesome to a foursome, but I am open to the idea.”

The two males sat there gobsmacked. “I...hope you're just idly dwelling on another idea for a comedy song,” said Kazuma.

“Yeah, don't worry. I'm using cheap innuendo to get your attention. Like Tool's early output, you know,” said Ibuki, tongue in cheek.

“Don't remind me,” said Kazuma. “I much prefer their more graceful period.”

“And I,” said Gundam, “prefer the period they were making music.”

Ibuki and Kazuma burst out laughing, the teen in the piano tie almost falling out of his chair. Gundam just sat there puzzled.

“Seriously? I was just guessing so I could join in on this festivity.”

Ibuki struggled to calm down long enough to answer her purple-scarfed partner in music. “No, you got it right. Tool's last album is close to ten years old. Their next one should have been out ages ago.”

“That's about as long for the Rainbow Cockatrice to resurge,” Gundam muttered. “Perhaps I should look into taming this beast once more, if it has anything to do with this delay.”

Kazuma wiped the tears from his eyes. “It's, ah...it's just legal issues as far as I know. Gundam, you said you felt you need to know more about music? Here's a free lesson; record labels are mostly awful.”

Gundam simply nodded in response.

 

“Ahh,” sighed Kazuma. “Anyway, we will see what happens, if that's okay with you. I'll say up-front, Ibuki; you seem you like you know what you're doing more than either of us, so you can make all the big calls.”

“Big calls?” Ibuki said. “I'm on my way and making it, then!”

“Indeed, I am honoured, but I still feel out of my element. Given my aptitude to the elements, the wisest course of action lies in trusting you, it seems,” said Gundam, a rather serious look in his eye.

“Then you can count on me. No, you can stand by me.” Ibuki stood up as she said this. Kazuma copied her, extending his hand. Ibuki happily shook it, exerting enough force to make his entire arm quiver. Afterwards, Ibuki extended her arm to Gundam, who shook his head instead.

“I am not ready to make a life pact with anyone yet. Though I said I trust you, I cannot extend that level of trust to you.” Gundam closed his eyes, his face adorned with a serious expression.

Ibuki simply smiled before stating, “that you would tell us this is handshake enough, Tanooki!”

 

Gundam cracked a smile. “So, I suppose we should get going. The passage of time waits for no man, and I imagine the arbitrations of this school dictate we go to our next class very soon.”

“That's a shame,” said Kazuma. “I was hoping I could get out of PE. Alas alack.”

“Oh, son of Sam!” Ibuki clicked her fingers. “You're right, Gundam. Ibuki also has to go put her guitar away because she accidentally left it here yesterday.”

“So, when should we reconvene?”

“Recon-what, Kaz?”

“Uh, when should we meet up again?”

Ibuki put her finger on her chin.

“Can I have your phone numbers?” she asked.

 

“Of course,” said Kazuma, digging through his pocket to find his phone.

“I see. She may be a better seer, but I still have the edge in telepathy,” Gundam said with a triumphant expression.

Kazuma simply shot him down. “Give it a rest, Gundam.”

Gundam laughed it off before digging around his coat pockets. Eventually, the three exchanged numbers.

“Alright, Ibuki. Call us if you have any breakthroughs,” said Kazuma.

“And you too! You can call me any any time!”

“Of course.” Kazuma nodded. “Alright, I'm probably gonna have to go change. I will see you two later.”

Kazuma waved at the two others before leaving the room, a more relaxed posture in his walk.

 

“So, what do you think of Billy Joel?” Ibuki said, turning to Gundam.

“I think we'll get along just fine, if that is what you are inquiring about. And yet...”

Gundam trailed off.

“There is something yet undefinable about him. Something...essential.” Gundam was struggling for words. It was clear the two did not know as much about Kazuma as they had hoped. Ibuki simply considered it another part of the project, however, and her impression of the “piano man” at yesterday's activity would override any doubts.

And besides, neither could deny he was friendly enough, and on the way back to her dorm, Ibuki had enough self-awareness to see the power in having Kazuma's stoicism stand out against Gundam's boisterousness and her own force of personality.

Ibuki entered her dorm room and slid the guitar under her bed, double-checking to make sure it was there this time before leaving for her next class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am beginning to see why people just write drabbles. Writing consistent dialogue is, at times, a chore, especially when having to counter-balance it with enough prose to keep the pace up. If this chapter seems disappointing, I'm not blind as to why. That said, I have far greater frameworks for future chapters. Expect more consistent output, both in terms of quality and quantity.


	4. Oh! You Pretty Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long, grueling week, Ibuki and her friends decide to hit up the local sushi shop.

Even for a being of boundless energy as Ibuki, the Friday schooltime burn was real.

 

Having just vacated her final class for the week, she wandered into the halls of the school, starting to fill out as students evacuated their perceived prison. Ibuki joined right in, heading for the exit of the building into the courtyard, its verdant lawns peppered with the feet of the Hope's Peak student body as some stuck around to find their groups and others headed out to the town for weekend fun. Ibuki had no such plans, aiming to head to her dormitory.

She was just about to open the brown door to her room when she heard a particular metal riff; her custom ringtone. Dipping into her shirt's picket, she picked up the phone and flipped it open.

“A-hoy-hoy?”

“Hey, Ibuki,” said a tinny voice from the speaker. “We're all planning to head out for sushi this afternoon. That place we went to last week. Wanna come?”

“Sure thing, Mahiru,” Ibuki said with a grin the person on the other end of the line could not see. “I shall attend post-haste, my lady!”

“Ten minutes should be fine. We'll see you then.”

Ibuki flipped her phone closed. In truth, nothing sounded more appealing right now than hanging out with her usual friends. The idea of band practice so soon after offering the idea was considered foolish even to her, especially on a Friday where even she was burnt out. And it occurred to her she had not actually had a tangible conversation with her group of lunch friends for a comparatively long time. It would never be said that Ibuki was playing favourites, if she had anything to say about it. Even if no one else was offering up the idea to begin with. Ibuki turned around, headed out of the domitories and past the courtyard onto the road to town.

 

The road to Shingetsu was surrounded by many green trees, creating a narrow and constricting feel despite the road's actual size. It echoed the enrolment process of the school itself to many people; it looked narrow, and some could never dream of finding their way in, but the actual gulf of talent between those enrolled and those not enrolled was not as big as was generally perceived, and those who started to encroach upon Hope's Peak had much leeway in doing so.

Littered with a few other students, the road appeared sparse some time into the Friday afternoon. Aiming to keep herself entertained, Ibuki started to dig out her music player and unravel her headphones, taking her eyes off the path in front of her.

She bumped into a certain blonde-haired yakuza, almost dropping her music player in the process.

“Hey!” Fuyuhiko turned around and yelled. “Watch where you're going, you no-good pixie bitch!”

“Eheh,” Ibuki chuckled nervously. “My bad.”

“You're damn right, 'your bad'. Lousy, rotten, no-good J-pop motherfucker...” Fuyuhiko trailed off as he started to turn away, before Ibuki spoke up.

“Hey, Kazuma Kiryu. That's a low blow. All I did was bump into you a little.”

“Eh?” Fuyuhiko stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “I ain't Kazuma, I'm taller than he is.”

“No, I mean like 'Kazuma Kiryu', the character from...”

The two paused.

“Forget it,” murmured Ibuki. “No-good, rotten, lousy--”

Fuyuhiko suddenly closed the distance between the two, aiming one of his fists at Ibuki.

“I do not need to be mocked, Ibuki. Not today. Cross me again and I'll have you killed three times before you hit the ground. Got that?”

The yakuza's eyes glowed with enough intensity and fervor Ibuki almost believed they were on fire. Even she knew when to relent on the odd occasion. And being stared down by the Ultimate Yakuza was not a scenario she wanted to turn into an even-numbered one. Ibuki simply nodded and hurriedly walked on ahead.

 

In her unnoticed haste, she ended up in front of Shingetsu's sushi shop in record time. Peering inside, she noticed none of her friends had arrived yet, although a few students were inside perusing the bento box selection. She took a good whiff of the scent inside before looking back out to check for her group. The breezy weather was nice to simply 'be' in, slotting nicely with the homely build of the district's stores. The idea to build and operate Hope's Peak near a relatively small town was used to promote cultural growth and osmosis, though finding a suitable town not off-put by Hope's Peak's lofty ambitions was a reported feat for the time.

Ibuki turned from looking at one end of the street to the other to see her friends all approaching, with Mahiru and Hiyoko notably closer to each other than they had been prior, with Mikan taking up the rear. As they approached, so too did Ibuki's grin trademark appear. So ubiquitous was it to her that she sometimes wonder why she didn't try to market that alongside her music, literally sticking her smile up onto digital distribution.

“Hiya, girls. Ready for our sushi sesh?” Ibuki stuck out her tongue, apropos of nothing to her cohorts.

“Hey, Ibuki,” said Mahiru. “You got a bit of dirt on your skirt.”

“Eek!” Ibuki hurriedly slapped her skirt until it was off. “Thanks, Ma Hero!”

“Er, sure. Did something happen, Ibuki?”

“Who knows? Not me. I never lost control.” She displayed her grin once more. Hiyoko then tugged on Mahiru's clothes.

“Come on. Are we gonna eat or are we just gonna stand here until next week's classes?”

 

The four entered the shop and ordered their sushi, with Ibuki taking the chicken teriyaki with mild spicy sauce. A nice counter-balance between the fish, the rice and everything else, she thought. Once receiving their boxes, the group sauntered to the back and found a booth to sit down in. Ibuki found herself caught between Mikan and the wall, without much space for moving around. It was at rare moments such as these that she lamented having her hair so.

“You know,” Mahiru said, staring at Ibuki with a devious smile. “At times like these, I wonder if you regret having your hair like that.”

“Ooh, so Gundam has yet more competition in the art of tele-payphone!”

Mahiru simply, slowly, slid her hand up her own face in response. The incredulity she felt at the situation could not be summarised.

“Anyway, I don't know about you three,” said Mahiru, “but I am wiped out. Never thought they'd be pushing the workload so early into semester.”

Hiyoko cackled. “I'll say. Those bozos are probably going to treat us like circus bugs at the end of the term of this keeps up.” Hiyoko made a slight pointing motion at the table. She had grown out of her cruel hobby, but the remnants of her actions remained in her. It was a reflex, one she similarly hoped to move past.

“I'm feeling so much burnout that it feels like the start of a harsh Green Day album,” said Ibuki. “One that never ends but is also over too quickly.”

“That album sounds like crap if you ask me,” remarked Hiyoko.

“Well, you're not far off, in a sense.” Ibuki rubbed the back of her neck.

Mahiru violently coughed, attempting to cut the conversation off. “Anyway, Mikan, how about you? “

“Yeah, Mikan,” said Ibuki. “Feel the burn? Or, uhh...inflammation?”

“N-not any more so than usual, I don't think,” Mikan stuttered. Hiyoko's bug-squashing habit might have been quelled, but when it came to the health expert, her habits died harder than that.

“You know,” Hiyoko interjected. “It occurred to me that we've been spending so much time bickering that we haven't even touched our food yet.”

“S-sorry.”

 

Mahiru glanced a quick glance at the smaller girl sitting next to her before giving up and eating her sushi same as everyone else. Just about everyone at Hope's Peak was cautioned against missing out on the local sushi, even the foreigners, so talked about was its quality. Despite that, the store itself was rarely that busy as most patrons opted to simply buy a bento box for the trip home. Ibuki decided to do this on the way out also, as her current dish was not filling enough.

In the midst of throwing down her food, someone approached the booth.

“Hey, uhh...Ibuki?”

“Heeeeeeyy, it's Leon!”

The red-haired youth gleamed at Ibuki, who couldn't help but gleam back.

“You probably know where this is going, but I was wondering if you'd like to help me in the band proj---I mean, if I can help you in the band proj---”

Leon was spluttering, tripping over his words.

Ibuki brought a finger to her chin. “The problem with that is that you're a drummer, right? 'Cos that's what you played on Wednesday.”

“Yeah, don't you need one?”

“I think I already have one in mind, sorry.” Ibuki clearly looked apologetic, but what could she do? She had, in fact, talked to her current drummer first. “But we definitely still need a bassist if you can manage that.”

Leon looked defeated. “I was always better with blunt instruments, so to speak. That's why I went to baseball instead of...I dunno, soccer.” He hung his head. He hadn't expected Ibuki to have wrapped things up this quickly, though in hindsight, it should not have been a shock that the Ultimate Musician would go after the best talent as soon as possible.

"Well...see ya.” Leon walked out the front of the store. Ibuki regretted simply being that dismissive, but not that she was dismissive at all. Something about the way Leon had played his drum solo that day was technically fancy but musically hollow. Coupled with his eager presentation, even Ibuki could guess he was probably in it for the attention. Yes. Definitely the right choice, at least in the sense it was not what Ibuki was looking for.

 

Ibuki was staring at Mahiru's head. Mahiru titled her head quizically.

“What?”

“I think you and Leon would make a great team.” Ibuki stuck her tongue out.

“Oh, har-de-har, like I haven't heard that one before.” Mahiru rolled her eyes, making sure Ibuki saw her do it.

“Sorry, c-can I say something?” piped up Mikan.

“Sure?” said Mahiru.

“I just want to say I know I haven't been the greatest friend lately. I-I hated just running off like that on Tuesday, I've just been so scared recently.”

“Scared of what?”

Mikan hesitated. Mahiru held out her hand for Mikan to grasp, an opportunity she took with great trepidation.

“It's nothing big. It's just...”

Mikan sighed.

“Between the workload and my shyness and my being picked on all the t-time, I know I'm not happy with where I am. And I know I want to get better but I don't know how. I don't know how I can get people to like me and I can't see myself just changing to get better.”

“Go on,” Mahiru said. Ibuki and Hiyoko were listening intently.

“I-I mean...I know this is something a lot of students are going through right now, and I know there's probably a chemical imbalance causing this too, but I just don't know what to do. I want to get myself out of this funk, but--”

Mikan paused. Was the group expecting a 'witty' interjection from Ibuki? Nothing happened. Mikan continued.

“I-I don't want to burden you with my problems. I know that's not the right word, I know you're happy to help, but I want to be able to prove to myself that I can do this. I guess I've done a good job of that now, though, huh?”

Mahiru placed her free hand on top of the one holding Mikan's. Her's was trembling.

“Mikan...I'm not going to simply tell you that 'it gets better' or 'believe in yourself'. Because you've heard it before, so you know it's not that simple. All I will say is this: if you think you don't know what to do, slow down, think it through. You have the time, even though you might not know it.”

Mikan's face was reddening, but her expression remained resolute.

“And if it's a chemical imbalance, I think you as a nurse know what else you can do to help. Sometimes, no amount of willpower is enough.”

“Mikan,” sprang the voice next to Mahiru. “I want to say I'm sorry. I didn't realise things were that hard. I've been kind of a bitch. I want you around.”

“Thanks, Hiyoko.” Mikan cracked a smile. “Thanks, guys. I'm sure I'll be okay with enough support, I just feel rough as anything right now. I still feel kinda bad about m-making a show of it, though.”

Hiyoko placed her hand on top of Mahiru's, which was holding her own, which was holding Mikan's.

“It's not making a show of things to be this honest, Mikan.”

“Yeah, that's why you're making a play at my hand, Hiyoko,” said Mahiru.

“What?” Hiyoko said, stuffing her tongue next to her cheek. “I was feeling a bit jealous, that's all!”

“Well, if you're gonna be my girlfriend, you'll have to be a little less clingy.”

 

Ibuki gasped. After a while, during which time the pile of hands in the middle of the table had retracted to their owners, she let out a long whistle.

“Ibuki can say she didn't see that one coming, and so she has to inquire about how long this has been going on.”

Hiyoko fidgeted. “Well, you know...a while.”

“She asked me two days ago.”

Mikan chuckled, the red fading from her face.

 

“Well, nice work,” yelled Ibuki. “Time for the bachelor party?”

The entire group laughed. Though they each had their many differences, it was clear the four understood and responded to each other very well, and there was a level of synchronicity to them that made them irreplaceable. After some more time chatting, Ibuki decided to head back home, taking a bento box for the road.

 

On the way back, Ibuki had the idea to compose an original song for the two lovebirds. The art of music was how best she expressed herself, but she also found some potential in expressing the joy of others through the artform if they weren't as masterful at it as her.

Plus, she could get help. There's no way the teacher wouldn't be asking for original songs from her bands, right?

Her mind was awash with rough song titles and concepts like “Little Red Loving Hood” and “I'm An Ex-Bug-Crusher Who's Moved On To Crushing On People Instead”, but by the time she had finished the long walk back to her dorm, she was truly spent. It took much of her strength to turn her dorm room key. Flopping down on the bed, she soon passed out.

 

“Passing out in the afternoon,” mused Ibuki in her final thoughts before drifting off. “Lemmy would be so disappointed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muuuuuch greater frameworks in place now. A good half of the story has been summarised now, so at least delivery from now own will be more efficient, but perhaps not timely. Actually typing everything out takes a lot of willpower.
> 
> This chapter I tried my hand at hurt/comfort stuffs and a dash of romance. Do not expect the ships to be flooding in; plenty of other fics for that, especially for the ones I'm doing. I'm trying to stick to canon as closely as I can while allowing for reasonable character evolution. Remember, the personalities the kids have in DR2 are from their first year at Hope's Peak, and I'm portraying their second.
> 
> Also, I threw in musical references to Bowie and Lemmy. Because...I had to.


End file.
